“I’m just not interested.” What she didn’t say was that even though she was alone, she didn’t feel single. A large chunk of her heart still belonged to Beau, and mere weeks wouldn’t change that. Lola took out her wallet.
The man held up a hand. “I’ve got your bill. Go on and enjoy the rest of your night here.”
“But—”
“I insist.” He leaned over and took the receipt from her table. “If you want to thank me, pay it forward.”
Lola wasn’t sure what to do other than leave the restaurant. She stopped at a corner market for a new pack of cigarettes, having finished the last one somewhere around the Missouri-Arkansas border. Once her trip ended, so would the bad habit she’d started up again. Cigarettes had become a form of comfort, reminding her of her early days at Hey Joe, when she was off drugs and alcohol completely. Smoking had kept her sane. Until Johnny had started to nag her about that too. Lola knocked the pack against her palm, walking along the Mississippi River.
She eventually stopped and rested her elbows on a railing to watch the day fade over the river. She took a drag of the first cigarette from her last pack. She’d decided in the Ozark Mountains that it was time go home to Los Angeles. Tomorrow, she’d start the trip back. She didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Ending the trip felt like closing the door on Beau for good, though. Letting go of her anger meant severing any remaining link to him. That was for the best, but the idea made her stomach turn and her eyes water. It was unexpectedly physical, the process of saying goodbye. Even her jaw tingled. It got stronger, prickling down her throat. Without warning, she gagged.
Lola pulled the cigarette away from her face and looked it over. The river water rippled below her. She put a hand over her mouth, the ground suddenly unsteady, as if she were out at sea.
She realized it wasn’t thinking of Beau that’d turned her cheeks warm and her palms clammy. But a cigarette hadn’t made her this nauseous since she’d sucked down her first one at fourteen. Lola stuck the butt between her lips and pulled out the pack to check for an expiration date. And then it hit her, the reason her mom had been forced to quit smoking twenty-nine years ago. Lola’s mouth fell open. The cigarette dropped onto the concrete, scattering ashes at her feet.
12
Four weeks earlier
Lola removed her new diamond earrings and set them on the bathroom counter. She glanced up at her reflection. Beau was in the doorway, his bowtie hanging around his neck, a shadow of stubble on his jaw. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “When did you change?” he whispered. “I wanted to watch.”
“I never let you watch.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t.”
Lola’s heart skipped as he nuzzled her neck. The idea that he’d seen her undress without her permission made her flush. He was a dog—she knew that. He’d treated her like a dog. What made him think he could get away with that—standing just out of sight as she unzipped the long zippers of the dresses he’d bought her, unclipped the stockings of her wasted lingerie, unclasped her heavy, expensive necklaces. “You watched me?” she asked, her breath coming faster.
“Mmm.” He moved her hair aside and kissed a spot under her ear. “No. But it’s been very tempting.”
The thin silk of her robe did nothing to hide the fact that Beau wanted her. It was a blunt reminder of their knee-quivering chemistry, of being owned by him.
He slid his hand down the smooth fabric and cupped her backside. “All night, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” When he spoke, it was into her neck and hair, breath so hot, him so close, she struggled to maintain focus.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth dried, and her pussy got greedy-wet. She put her palms on the counter, bracing herself as she began to slip under his spell. “Stop,” she murmured.
“I’m not doing anything.” His fingers curled around the meat of her ass, brushing the private underside of her.
She saw herself—breathing through her nose, reddening from the neck up. Beau was also watching, and their eyes met. He moved both hands around to her tummy and pushed his pelvis into her, sending her gasping toward the mirror.
“You hide it well,” he said. “Until you don’t. You want to fuck as badly as I do.”
She would’ve denied it, but her vocal chords wouldn’t cooperate. He roamed his hands down her body, then up the backs of her thighs, and up and up until he was cupping her tits through the silk. He squeezed them, rubbed them, released them to slip his hands inside her robe and put his skin on hers.
“Oh, God,” she said, bending over the lip.
“That’s it,” he said, keeping her breast in one hand as he undid his pants with the other.
Her protest was a moan. She’d been there less than a week, but her body was rubber-band tight, so tight, and she wanted that release. Needed it. She hadn’t even touched herself since the last time he’d been inside her—had just slept chastely by his side the last few nights
she’d been living there.
It fascinated Lola to see them together that way. Beau’s jaw set as he glanced down and back at her. She’d seen that reckless look in his eyes before—the first night, in Beau’s lap at the strip club, and many times after that. He always wanted to get inside her with a determination neither of them could fight.
He slid a finger along her slit, then pressed the tip of his cock to it. Neither of them moved. The bathroom lights glared, suddenly blinding. The longer he rested just his head between her folds, waiting, the harder she throbbed around it.
She knew what he wanted. It wasn’t enough to give herself over—she had to beg for it, for him to finish her off for good.
“I can feel you getting wet,” he said.
Lola shook her head hard, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror. Her knuckles whitened from making fists.
“No?” he asked. “You think I don’t know when your pussy’s hungry? Feed it. Push back onto me.”
“I can’t.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” she said. “You don’t own me that way anymore.”
“I was hoping you’d talk back,” he slapped her ass, and she inhaled loudly, “just so I could do that.”
She dropped her forehead down as sweat beaded on her upper lip. Her skin smarted where he’d spanked her, radiating to her pussy. It was as if her nerve endings only existed in the places Beau touched her.
“You don’t know the satisfaction I get from watching you fight yourself,” he said. “Do yourself a favor. Give in.” He stepped back, removing the pressure from between her legs.
“What’re you doing?” she breathed. She didn’t want to ask for it, but she sure as hell didn’t want him to stop.
“Hold yourself open for me.”